I live. With kids.

Cursed

Since I work at a newspaper we have a ton of them lying around the house. Once in a while my daughter will pick one up to look at and the first thing she glances at is the “question of the day.” It’s a spot where more often than not kids answer a question like “What is your favorite snack food?” or “Why do you love your mom?”

Every once in a while (about once a week), Maren asks why she is never in the paper. The last time was actually the day before three of her best friends’ were featured, which poured a little gas on the fire.

Can you put me in the paper?

So for about a week, every day I get the same thing: Dad, when am I gonna be in the paper?

Probably never.

WHHHHHHHYYYYYYY?

Because you’re cursed, honey? You can’t have your picture in the paper because Daddy works at the paper. If your photo is in there, I’m gonna get a hundred phone calls. I ain’t got no time for that.

WHHHHHHHYYYYYYY?

Like I said, it’s just bad luck.

Holding in tears, she says “is that why I can’t enter the Halloween or Christmas coloring contests either?”